A Harem of Tom
by motherofallrandomness
Summary: It's Tom and Hermione's anniversary. An anniversary generally means that you get to spend quality time together. The only problem is...which Tom? AN: No regrets.
1. Chapter I: The Anniversary

**Because many people were asking for it and I _was_ a bit stoned during the time I made this...here! Have a piece of my trash!**

 **Disclaimer: Do you think I would be bothering with this is Harry Potter was mine? Read the upper left corner of this page, it says FANfiction for a reason.**

 **Warning: No beta. Made at midnight while being high on ship-weed. So be afraid...**

* * *

It was rather pleasant day. The sun was bright, the birds singing in the early morning, the morning glories in the garden were in full-bloom, the soft breeze making the flowers dance, add to that a mansion so clean you would never expect it have been made in the early twentieth century, located up a hill to boot. To any other person, it would be picture perfect, the ideal morning to wake up to.

But not to its current residence.

No. Truth be told, ten out of eleven occupants of the house would have been more than happy to have the manor rot and crumble into dust had it not been for the one person who kept everything in order. Ironically, that one person is usually the cause of arguments amongst the remaining residents every single day.

Particularly this day.

-x-x-x-

It wasn't fair.

Childish and petulant as it may sound, it's the truth. Why must he share her with his…brothers? Could they even be considered as such? They were all technically one being, but to say that they were the same would be such a sin you would see pretty green lights flying in your person from every direction. They were just that different. Take our first resident for example; he was the first of many, he represented Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary. You can tell him apart from the rest simply by how he always has a quill on his person, whether holding it or placing it on his ear, it's always there. Always.

Currently, he was twirling the quill in one hand, his way of showing mild irritation. It. Just. Wasn't. Fair. His witch was growing malnourished with fatigue as she sat there across him in the sitting room, clearly there was something bothering her, and while still remarkably pretty in her own right, the dark lines under her beautiful eyes—his favourite part of her—were grating his nerves.

"Hermione, you need to stop. Today is a special day for us, you need to loosen up, love. Better yet, why not come sit here with me and tell me all about it. You know you can always tell me everything." He _was_ the diary for a reason.

The witch smiled as she faced him, "I'm fine Tom, there's nothing wrong. It's just that work has been hectic lately and the stress is finally catching up to me."

"You mean that you co-workers are taking advantage of your generosity and are making you do _their_ share of the work."

Tom, the Diary horcrux that is, could have snapped the quill in his hand. It was one of his…brothers, so to speak. This one represented the Gaunt's ring. While one held a quill, this one wore a collar around his neck. A collar that had Hermione's name embedded on it…in cursive letters. He was the ring, he symbolizes commitment and what better way to show it than to have your spouse's name on the collar you never seem to remove from your neck, or so he says. No asked dared ask why it had to be a collar in fear of either being Avada'd on the spot, or fear of the answer itself.

"That's not it Tom, I—"

"I got her first, _dog_ , come back another time."

And so it began. Hermione hung her head down.

"Excuse me, pile of papers, but _I_ am the _ring_. I _symbolize_ commitment; I am the embodiment of it! 'Tis only natural that she spends more time with _me._ "

"You're a _family_ ring, not an _engagement_ ring, you cretin. I cannot believe there was a point in my life when my intelligence receded to your levels."

The Diadem horcrux was quite possibly the most mature of all the pieces of Tom Riddle's soul that Hermione encountered. The glasses he wore only made him look more intelligent than he already was.

"Enough of your nonsense, the both of you. I clearly hold the most intelligence here so it's only natural that she seeks my audience!"

There was a chime of ringing bells and a fifth resident occupied the sitting room, "The heat is all getting in your head. She obviously prefers _my_ company over your barbaric selves," he promptly sat on the chair next to Hermione and offered her a cup of coffee, "here love, I know how much you like having your coffee in the morning. Hopefully it would help you feel better."

With a nod of gratitude, the brunette witch accepted the cup. The Diadem may be the most mature, but the Cup seemed to be by far the most generous one, considering this is Tom Riddle they were talking about. Not to mention being a clean-freak. That bell on his wristband shines brighter than a diamond and seems to get brighter more and more each time it's seen. It was a gift from Hermione, see. And this one everyone was certain he _never_ took off, it's with him even when he sleeps or takes a bath. Hermione knows this for a fact.

A snort was heard and the renowned Gryffindor princess would have scampered to the nearest exit if she could run past the other occupants of the room, never mind coming up with a valid excuse to leave the scene so abruptly.

Things never ended well when the Locket horcrux decides to join any arguments. A simple mistake of putting too much salt on what's for dinner could lead to curses ranging from Reducto to the Cruciatus curse, to curses Hermione has never even heard about being thrown around like food in a cafeteria food fight back in muggle high school in the span of two minutes. And this argument is not going to end differently.

"Like you inferior _beasts_ could ever hope to be Hermione's favourite. Have you all forgotten that _I_ have appeared in her dreams more than once? I'm the proverbial dream man!" Did anyone mention that he also happens to be the most pig-headed and difficult of them all? Because he is, quite terribly so in fact. His vanity knows no ends as well, you can tell him apart from the others with the way he leaves the first two buttons and the last button of his shirt, if you're lucky he buttoned it at all, or even bothered to put on a shirt for that matter…

"Tom, please don't sta—"

"Hermioneeeeeee!"

And a huge lump of flesh promptly dropped itself on Hermione's lap and turned its head to give the witch a pleading look with matching quivering lower lip.

The young woman resisted the urge to sigh, knowing it would offend the pile of humanized horcrux lying itself on her lap, and ran her hand through the soul piece's soft raven hair. Her efforts were rewarded with a very contented purr. Hermione had a feeling that the Snake horcrux had been a pet for so long that it doesn't even know what to be anything else, thus making him the most affectionate one. He's the only one amongst his 'brothers' who has a tan. His need to bathe himself in the sun as a snake persisted even when he acquired a human form. Hermione didn't mind, it looked really nice on him if she were to say so herself.

"This topic is pointless! Why would she want any of _you_? You all look like ghosts! She obviously pays _me_ the most attention! Tell them Hermione, tell them!" aaahhh, the Snake happens to rival the Locket horcrux when it comes to their pig-headedness and childish tendencies. Although Hermione was sure even the Snake would crack in the prolonged presence of the Locket. Yes, he was _that_ bad…

"Oh please!"

Hermione almost pulled the Snake's hair off in her frustration if she hadn't caught herself in the last second.

" _I_ have been with her the longest! I know more about her than any one of you! May I also mention that _I_ am the reason that Potter is still alive? Potter, who also happens to be her _best friend_ and _brother_ in everything but blood? That alone should be reason enough for her to spend more time with me!" The horcrux in Harry never did forget to throw that in his fellow horcruxes's faces, just as it never did seem to lose its effect on them.

"Enough of your nonsense, _children_. Can you ingrates not see that you're only causing Hermione more stress? You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Thinking how I was once all of you is giving me second-hand embarrassment."

Voldemort. Despite his rather…intimidating appearance, the Dark Lord everyone fears happens to be the most sophisticated one of all. The man—the Locket snorts whenever Voldemort is referred to as one—looks more like he's gliding whenever he walks. And no, it has nothing to do with shoes because Hermione saw him _glide_ on a rocky thoroughfare and no, he wasn't using magic because he wasn't "so pitiful and pathetic as to waste magic on something so mundane", or so he says.

Surprisingly enough though, he happens to be the one Hermione finds easier to talk to because when you get over the whole 'snake-face' thingy, he can sail a conversation smoother than the greatest captain. Not to mention his vocabulary sometimes gives even _Hermione_ a hard time. There were times when Hermione gets so engrossed in their discussion that she hardly notices his hands traveling on her thigh until it's too late and there would be no more discussions in a long while. She had to admit, he has _stamina_.

"No one asked you, _Paedophile_. Have you tried looking in the mirror lately? If you have then you should know why Hermione should never be seen with you in public." Did anyone mention that the actual Tom Riddle actually gets a special personification for himself? Aside from the Snake, he was the easiest to tell apart with his red eyes. And according to him, this makes him the hottest…which Hermione is having a hard time to decide whether it's true or false because each and every one of them had their own appeal.

She wondered if it was possible to render oneself bald by the sheer power of frustration. She also wondered how the space seemed so scarce yet so great with ten people in one sitting room…

The Diadem shifted his glasses, "With your wide vocabulary, I am assuming you know what 'cradle thief' means."

The quill twirled in the Diary's hand, "In layman's term, it means _child molester._ "

The Snake lifted his head from Hermione's lap to turn to the more…intimidating version of the Dark Lord, "Most people would refer to that as human trafficking, my _old_ friend."

A sneer formed in the Ring's pleasant features, "Whatever gave you the idea that Hermionewould want to be seen with you in public?"

The horcrux that once resided Harry shook his head mockingly in a disappointed manner, "How many times do we have to tell you not to wear your Halloween costume _every day?_ Ooops, I'm sorry, I forgot that was how you naturally look, you overgrown Halloween decoration."

The Cup lifted his head, looking at the ceiling contemplatively, "Just imagine what her parents would think…"

Hermione was a bit surprised when she heard nothing from the Locket, but when she turned to his direction and found him twirling his hair and scratching the tip of his nose, she understood. Some insults are best _done_ rather than said,

The lipless mouth twitched, "Ahhh, and to think that I ever like you during my younger, _scrawnier_ years. Now that I reminisce though, I must say that you all remind me eerily of someone in the past…I may have killed him though."

"And who might that be?"

"Our dearest father."

Silence.

' _Huh, what do you know, something can actually shut them all up,'_ and so Hermione made a mental note to bring up Tom's father whenever the arguments get too aggravating.

"Hermione…?"

The voice was so soft Hermione barely heard it but she still did and was immediately on her feet(causing the Snake to fall off and pout at the loss of contact), heading to the direction of where the voice came from. She kneeled down on one knee and moved a stray hair from the small figure's forehead.

"What is it Sweetie? Did you have a nightmare?"

The last resident of the manor was the youngest version of Tom, his seven year-old self to be precise…

The little boy looked adorably pitiful as he nodded his head, sniffed, lower lip quivering, raised his dark eyes that swam with unshed tears forcibly being held back, "Y-you left me… you said you didn't c-care about me anymore! Because I-I was just a li-little brat getting in your w-way!"

The brunette witch's heart cracked at the sight of the boy clearly trying to keep the tears from falling from his eyes. She cooed and gently held the little boy in her arms, placing him on the crook of her neck, "Shhh, there, there. Don't be upset anymore, Tom, don't cry. You know I would _never_ do that to you. I love you most, you know that."

"At least _we_ can have sex with her." It came out before any of the other soul pieces could control themselves. They never really were good at sharing…not even to themselves.

The dam broke, and the youngest form of Tom Riddle gave a feeble whimper.

Hermione has had just quite enough of them.

"You know what, I can't believe you! He's just a little boy! How dare you even say that word in front of him! I hope you all find the couch comfortable because you'll all be sleeping there for the rest of the _month!_ Come on honey, let's leave these meanies behind. You and I have a whole month's worth of bonding time." And so the Gryffindor Princess carried the young Heir of Slytherin in her arms and walked out on the nine gaping men in the room.

" _ **WHAT?!**_ "

* * *

Before Hermione left their peripheral vision, they saw their youngest… _brother_ lock eyes with all of them. A smug smirk formed on little lips, completely obliterating the timid innocence it held mere seconds ago, before he wrapped his arms tighter around brunette rubbed his cheek on their witch's neck and closed his eyes, emitting a contented purr.

…

 _ **And was that a two-fingered salute aimed their way just there?!**_

While it may be true that all of them held resentment towards each other, it was an unspoken agreement that they all despised their youngest self the most. It does, after all, takes an evil little imp to create the man Tom Marvolo Riddle becomes.

* * *

 **I regret nothing!**

 **AN: I'm going to be making a Halloween and Christmas Special for these.**


	2. Chapter II: Halloween Special

**sorry it took a while... anyways, here is the one for halloween**

* * *

Hermione Granger was horrified. That's all there was to it. Hermione Granger was horrified, and it's not because she's one with the holiday spirit.

CRASH!

"You insipid fool! How many times must I remind you that you cannot put heavy objects on things made of tissue-thin glasses?!" Voldemort.

"Oh please, the only reason you're pretending to be mad is because Hermione is in the vicinity. Otherwise you would have burned every single furniture in this house." Locket.

"Untrue. I only hate those that we kept after we redecorated this reconstruction of hell on earth. Tell me, do you fancy sitting on that chair our dearest father occupied?"

"…Good point. Anyways, hey Snaky! Where do you think we should splatter the blood? I was thinking the front lawn would be good."

'Hold on, blood?!' What little color was left on Hermione's face drained.

"I think we should drop it on Scarface—no, not you brother now put that wand back where you took it from—and Weasel." Snake.

"HA! Good one! I need to get back at them for trying to kidnap Hermione last month anyway."

'They weren't trying to kidnap me; we were supposed to be having a reunion before you decided that burning the building was a good idea.'

"You better be willing to clean your filth. If I see or smell anything caused by your Neanderthal-like activities, I'll use your tongue to clean up your mess." Cup. She always knew she could count on him to do damage control—or prevention, in this case.

"Better yet, why not just do nothing at all? No one wants either of you running around unsupervised. I swear, the child could behave himself better than either of you even at his worst days and you on your best behaviours." Diadem. He was becoming more and more her favourite amongst the grown men with each passing day. Not that any one of them needs to know that, lest there be pretty green lights flying out of each pale wand whenever the Diadem horcrux is in the vicinity.

"Oh! I know! We should use it to make water-balloons—or in this case blood-balloons—and throw it at whoever comes through the door!" Of course the Locket wouldn't even deign to listen to his 'brother's' advice. "And maybe we could even write 'Enemies of the Heir, Beware' on the wall somewhere—nice touch to that by the way. I'm pretty sure you traumatized a lot of children with that."

Has Hermione every mentioned that the incident during her second year was taboo around the Diary? Because whenever it's even implied in the slightest when he's in the vicinity—

"It was not my intention to almost have you killed. It was never meant to be you. At the time, I knew Potter could not have solved the mystery of the Chamber of Secretes on his own, that he needed your guidance like he's always had. I intend for you to be by his side when he finally discovered where the Chamber lied—"

—he turns into a walking mass of remorse (Hermione is still unsure of this) that will last for an entire day at the very least. No matter how many times Hermione said she's already forgiven him, he would still pull off a sulking episode. Honestly, for someone so smart, the Diary (Hermione has long reverted to calling them by their horcrux item since whenever she calls for 'Tom', all denizens of the house would turn their heads to her and while it was amusing at first, it got annoying when the matter was urgent) couldn't seem to grasp the concept of forgiveness. Then again, none of them do.

Hermione supressed the very powerful urge to bash her head against the wall, and opted to sit beside the Diary (who was previously working on the pumpkins—don't ask how he was persuaded to do that part of the decoration, he just was) and ran her fingers through his hair just the way all of them liked…with the exception of Voldemort of course, that one has…. _other_ preferences when it comes to 'innocent' touching.

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's all in the past? I've moved on already, it's high time you did too. Do you really think that I would be with you like this, _touching_ you like this is I haven't forgiven you?" by now his face was cupped between her hands and only mere inches away from her own. The Diary closed his eyes and then proceeded to nuzzle his face between her neck and shoulder.

There was a very distinct crack that signified something made out of glass was being gripped far too tightly and was a few seconds away from being shattered into pieces.

The brunette witch whipped her head in the general direction of where all the other personification of Tom Riddle was, "Oh will you stop it?! You're all practically jealous of yourselves!"

A rather immature chorus of "It's not the same!" echoed throughout the manor.

* * *

She didn't know how they managed it, but they actually finished decorating Riddle Manor long before anyone decided to visit them. She supposed being a magical prodigy—all nine of them are so very smug about that it's starting to get on her nerves—was a huge help.

"You know, I don't even know why we even bothered. We could have just put snake-face at the front gate, he's more than enough decoration and this is actually that one time of the year when he could actually walk amongst civilization without causing mass terror." After all these years, Hermione finally knows where Harry got all his sass.

"Enough! Must you always cause Hermione stress? It's almost as if you have nothing better to do! Oh wait, you don't…" came the Diadem's dry voice.

Before anyone could react, there was a knock on the door.

"'Mione! You're doorbell is broken again and I think Harry broke the gate…again!" Ginny. Wait, did she just say—

"Are you guys even sure that she's still alive in there? Those bloody gits have probably tortured her to death! We haven't heard from her since last week!"

"Ron, Ginny, move out of the way. I'm bringing this door down."

"You're not breaking down any door of ours, Potter. This wouldn't even be an issue if you could actually repair it. But no, you fix worse than you destroy," with that said, the cup stood up, opened the door—most likely to go out and asses and repair the damages dealt with the front gate than to let Harry, Ron and Ginny inside the manor.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. She was ever so thankful that the Ring finally made his presence known with a chair ready for her to sit on. She didn't think she could continue to keep herself upright for much longer.

A few seconds later had everyone save for Hermione with their wands drawn out. Three almost thirty year-old wizards and witch against nine wizards with nearly—or more, she doesn't like to think about their ages lest she be unable to look at any of them in the eyes for the remainder of the year—a century's worth of experience under their belt; all nine happen to be of equal strength and skill and desire to send the Killing Curse flying against their opponents.

Well, that seems fair.

"Really 'Mione, how can you stand being with _Voldemort_? Let alone _ten_ of them?!" Harry exclaimed, not taking his eyes way from the yew wands that were—surprise, surprise— _all_ pointed at him particularly. Heh, it seems that good old Tom Riddle never got over his little vendetta against the Boy Who Lived, especially—

"Well, well, if it isn't the Boy Who Still Wets His Pants at the Age of fifteen."

…Curse that horcrux who stayed with him. While the Locket had a good sneak peak in his head (he wasn't _that_ bad at Occlumency, you know), it was different from the horcrux that actually _lived_ with him. And it's really no secret that despite Voldemort attempting to murder him every end of the school year, Harry hated the horcrux with the scar that matched his own most.

"Oh please, I don't want to hear any complaints from a bloody, free-loading leech."

"Call me leech, he says? Who was it that leeched off of Hermione's intellect for seven years in Hogwarts up till this very day? And don't even deny it, Potfuck, we take turns in delivering Hermione her homemade lunch daily as well as take her home after work, I _know_ you still ask for her help with your bullshite paperwork!" And the feeling was undoubtedly mutual.

When aggravated enough, the Harry-horcrux had a mouth a rainbow and an aurora borealis would both be envious of.

"The only reason you're still alive is because of Hermione! Had my kitten not been there to practically spoon feed everything to you, I'd have killed you a thousand times over!"

Hermione saw Ron raise his wand a tad higher. Before he could get any sound to leave his mouth, the Cup sneered at him, "We spent _hours_ fixing this place Weasley. One single furniture out of place and I'll have acromantulas crawling all over that hellhole you call your home."

Ron never did got over his fear of spiders.

"Now, now, children, let's all settle this the right way, shan't we? Potter and Weasley have already drained Hermione's energy enough as it is. Why don't we all just sit at the dining table and have our dinner, yes?" Thank you, Voldemort.

* * *

Kill. Her. With. Avada.

 _ **NOW.**_

Why must men always fight over their food? There was more than enough for everyone!

"One more hand at that curry and you're dead, Weasley," the Snake ground out through his teeth.

"There's still like, half of 'em left! What's your problem?!"

"The problem is that the only reason that it's reduced to half is because you've already crassly inhaled the first half, _cretin_." The Ring sneered.

"Why are you lot even here in the first place?" Tom asked, ruby eyes dark with the amount of ire that was steadily rising as we speak, "You've already had your Ministry Halloween Party, why are your still pestering my lioness?" his voice, while low and smooth, was the equivalent of a snarling tiger.

Ginny, although weary at the presence of multiple furious Dark Lords, wore an exasperated look on her beautiful freckled face. Hermione knew that look rather well. It was the same look she wore when she longed to be removed from the exposure of far too much testosterone and mounting male ego attempting to override the other.

Before the female Weasley could suggest that they leave for the sitting room and let men be the Neanderthals they truly were at the core of their beings and have their battle of the egos, there was a loud screech of the brunette witch's name and all heads turned to where the voice had come from.

There stood seven year-old Tom, dressed in his black furred wolf costume that managed to make him look impossibly adorable with the added effect of the twitching wolf ears, the black fur not contrasting with his pale skin.

Hermione's heart melted and, her previous ill feelings evaporating like a drop of water on the Sahara desert's soil, immediately rushed to the small child with arms wide open, a squeal of adoration just barely contained in her throat. The second the boy was in her arms, she cuddled like a child would with her favourite stuffed animal until the youngest personification of Tom Riddle Jr. finally—albeit reluctantly—complained about not being able to breathe.

The women were unaware of how a finger of each nine occupants twitched and trembling hands clutched glasses that miraculously didn't show any signs of shattering. Harry and Ron shifted uncomfortably in their respective seats. This was going to get uglier. Angry Dark Lords they knew how to deal with—then man was angry at least ninety percent of the time they knew him during their Hogwarts days—but a jealous man?

Arms still wrapped around Hermione's waist, little Tom looked up to the witch, "'Mione! Let's go! You promised you'll go trick or treating with me!" he was bouncing up and down. Normally Hermione would be annoyed with such behaviour coming from other children, but with the wolf ears twitching, the tail behind wagging like mad, and the fact that little Tom was as adorable as a child as he will be handsome when he grows up, she caved. She did promise after all.

She turned to her only female companion in the room, "Would you like to join us, Ginny?"

Before the red-head could even open her mouth, the child wailed and buried his head on Hermione's torso, "No! No! No! No! You promised it would be just the two of us, 'Mione! You promised! You promised! You promised!"

Ginny laughed at the sight and shook her head, "I think I'll stay here, just to make sure that the house is still standing when you guys get home." And she shooed them away.

The second that the door closed and the gate a little while later, signalling the departure of the two, nine glasses simultaneously shattered.

* * *

"I don't understand…this should be the time when she spends more time with me and tell me that everything's all right and that she bears me no ill will after what happened on her second year…"

"I knew I should have burned that little devil when I caught him playing near the fireplace…"

"This makes no sense… Why would a woman of Hermione's level of intelligence reduce herself to catering to the silly needs of a child? Why?"

"I'll rub that imp's face until his eyes, nose and mouth are clean off his head…"

"It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair! Why is she spending more time with a little brat more than me?! WHY?! Should I keep my shirt open and have 'Hermione's bitch, don't touch' tattooed on my chest?!"

"That blasted little maggot! I'll wring his little neck the first chance I get him alone…"

"What are the chances that I could convince that little monster to ride a broom and have him fall a few hundred feet above the ground?"

"Harry, shut them up!"

"What the bloody hell are you on right now that you think they'd listen to anything I say, Ron?!"

"Both of you stop whining and stop them from destroying the house! 'Mione's gonna kill every single one of us when she gets home! Dammit, stop Lord V and the Riddle with the red eyes over there from destroying every single picture the kid has with Hermione!"

* * *

Needless to say, when Hermione and little Tom got back to Riddle Manor, Aurors and Unspeakables were flocking the mansion. The horcruxes, Tom and Voldemort were all sporting a few scratches here and there, clothes lightly tattered, black dust littered on a few parts of their bodies, looking anywhere but in Hermione's direction.

Harry, Ron and Ginny on the other hand… well, to say that they looked like they went to hell, called Lucifer 'sunshine' at his face, got chased through all the circles of hell and back to earth again would be an understatement.

* * *

 **Christmas will be coming soon...when i get the time...hopefully it would not be as short as this one and be longer than the first one.**


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